Cigars, Cigarettes?
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: When you are an UNCLE agent, it helps to have people watching out for you. Part of the Working Stiffs series


There are times when a woman must do what she can to survive. When my husband decided to step off the curb and into the path of an oncoming truck, my world changed very quickly. Until that point, I'd been a housewife. We'd talked about kids, but the time never seemed right. I regretted my reluctance because at least I would have had something to remember Arnie by. At the same time I was pretty happy I didn't have to worry about supporting a kid, just me. Arnie used to say that opportunity didn't knock, it whispered and you had to listen for it. So much for that.

Of course I could have gone back home, but that really wasn't an option. Between the verbal abuse of my father and the physical attention of my brothers, I was better off in the gutter. I don't know why Mom stayed there, but that was her choice. I'd offered many times, but she always said Daddy needed her.

Anyhow, marrying right out of high school, I didn't have many job skills to fall back on. Sure I'd taken typing and shorthand in school, but never really achieved greatness with either. Long story short, that's how I ended up being a cigarette girl for _Le_ _Palais Blanc_. That's French for White Palace, although it wasn't either.

I carried around a tray and murmured, "Cigarettes, cigars, gum, a flower for the lady?" about a hundred dozen times a night. It wasn't bad work, although you had to be careful. Some guys had roving hands and thought that buying a pack of cigarettes afforded them a lot more than just smokes. I had learned early how to elude the groping hands and if they got too bad, I said something to Carlos, our bouncer and he took care of it.

Say what you will, I didn't hate my job. I met nice people, got a good amount of exercise and the pay was okay if not fabulous. It was enough for my little apartment and augmented what I got from Arnie's life insurance policy. I wasn't living on easy street, but I was making it on my own. I was safe and that meant a lot.

My world was due to change one day when I just happened to see one guy pointing to another one and making a threat. The man being slandered was nicely dressed and seemed polite enough. He was there with another guy, a blond. Good looking, I supposed, if you like blonds. I don't particularly. Arnie was a redhead and I liked his zest for life. No one should have their life cut short and the things being said were enough to make my blood boil.

I pretended that I didn't hear a thing – you get good at that after a while – and kept walking, eventually making my way over to the pair of men.

"Cigarettes, cigars, say yes," I said and locked eyes with the dark-haired man.

He seemed confused but smiled anyway. It was a nice smile. "Ah, alright, yes."

"Don't you ever turn it off," his pal asked, but I could see his eyes twinkling as if this was a long standing joke between them.

"Those two men in Booth Five are saying some not very nice things about you two." I handed over a pack of cigarettes, smiled and even flirting a bit, just in case the Booth Five was watching. "The stuff they are talking about is pretty awful. I just thought you should know."

"Well, thank you very much. Illya?" He jerked his head in the direction of Booth Five and the blond guy, Illya? He suddenly dropped his napkin and while reaching down to pick it up, aimed something in their direction and I thought I saw a small flash.

"What's that gizmo?"

"The answer to all our questions." He smiled. "I hope." It was a nice smile.

The dark haired guy stood up slightly to look into my tray. He selected a pack of gum and dropped something to the bottom. It looked like a big silver button about the size of a silver dollar.

"What's that?"

"All the better to hear them, my dear. Perhaps you should go over and see if they'd like anything."

I shrugged my shoulders and made my way back to Booth Five, pausing along the way at various tables to make it seem as if I wasn't, though. I stopped next to their table, making a pretense of checking my tray.

"Solo deserves to be dragged behind a car. I want to hear him scream for mercy as the asphalt peels off his skin."

"He'll die first. Neither he nor Kuryakin will give you that satisfaction. Dead is enough for me and I say tonight is our lucky night. They don't have a clue we are here."

"Cigars, cigarettes, gum?" I asked and got my first good look at them. They seemed like regular Joes dressed in ordinary suits. There was nothing outstanding about either of them except their eyes. They had ugly hateful eyes. I'd seen that look in my father's eye as he reached for the strap and knew no amount of violence would make it go out.

"Get lost, honey. What I want you aren't selling unless you want to get cozy later." He sort of leered at me.

"I doubt my husband would appreciate that. He's a policeman." That is usually enough to shut up the loudest drunk.

"Bet he works nights just like you." He grabbed my tray and I stumbled, brushing against him. I felt a hard pinch and repressed shouting out. I looked for Carlos, but didn't see him.

"I believe the young lady said no." My dark-haired fella was back. He was just a little taller than me and looked about as dangerous as your average office boy.

"Solo!" he spat. I was roughly pushed aside as the man reached into his jacket. His other friend was getting up, but other patrons were starting to get interested and from the corner of my eye, I could see Carlos making a beeline for the table.

"In a crowded restaurant, Silvers? Even a second bit THRUSH like you has more sense than that." He helped me to my feet. "Are you all right?"

"What's going on here?" Carlos was about six foot six and all muscle. "Irene, are you hurt?" He asked as I got to my feet.

"That guy got grabby and this nice man was seeing to my reputation."

"You both need to leave now. We don't want your kind here."

"This isn't over, Solo." Silvers tossed a handful of money onto the table and stalked away. "Getting a dame to do your dirty work. You UNCLE agents never miss a beat.

"It never is." He knelt to start gathering my tray's contents back. I noticed that the metal disc didn't make it back into the tray. Carlos escorted the two men to the door. Both were casting malicious glances back at Solo.

"What did he mean by UNCLE agent?"

"No idea." He kissed my hand and then, just like that, he was gone.

What little of the rest of the night went quietly enough. People were generous, I guess, from my little do. After about half an hour, things started hurting and I knew there would be a kaleidoscope of bruising.

"Hey, Irene, why don't you know it off for tonight?" Sympathy from the manager was rare and I snatched at the chance to take my aching body home. I went into the back and changed from the work clothes to my street clothes and flats. I emptied out my tray, did inventory, checked it against the cash received and handed my take over to the cashier.

The box was scratched and needed a little TLC, so I tucked it under my arm and headed for the bus stop.

I was about two blocks from the restaurant when I heard a noise. Normally I wouldn't have paid a hill of beans to it, but it had been one of those nights.

Quietly, I entered the alley, although I didn't really need to worry. There were three men, one was holding another man while the third beat on him. I knew exactly what was happening and I looked around for something. All I had was my tray… my tray with the metal bottom.

Quickly, before I lost my nerve I charged the men, screaming at the top of my lungs. I swung the tray and clipped Silvers in the jaw. I spun and smashed it over the head of the guy holding Solo. It broke with a satisfying crunch. Grabbing the strap, I wrapped it around the neck of the man and started twisting.

Suddenly, there was lights and shouts and I dropped the strap and stepped back. Nearby, a form was rising and I raised my fist, but it was only a very dirty and bruised Illya. He smiled and then knelt by Solo's side.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. The police wanted to arrest me, but Napoleon, that was Solo's first name, assured them that I had rescued him. They took me to an office building and left me in a comfortable enough lounge.

"Is there anything I can get you?" The woman was wearing a white shirt, a dark skirt and a gun. Everyone here had a gun. It made me pretty nervous.

"Some… some aspirin, please?"

"Anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you. Can I go home?" After everything that had happened, I just wanted to climb into bed and go to sleep. It would be bad enough tomorrow when I had to admit I'd destroyed my tray. Hopefully it wouldn't cost too much to replace it.

"Very soon."

I got my aspirin and tried to relax as much as I could. I stretched out on the couch and must have fallen asleep because the doors woke me.

Napoleon came walking in, an arm in a sling and a bandage on his head. He was walking strangely and I knew he must be in severe pain from the way he was moving.

"There you are, Mrs. Walen," he spoke quietly as if even that hurt.

"How do you know my name?"

"We know lots of things. In a few minutes, my boss is going to come and talk to you. Please listen to him very carefully and give his suggestion serious consideration. After that, one of my men will escort you home."

"Are you okay, Mr. Solo?"

"I've looked much worse. Now I need to go an check on my partner. He should be just about ready to go home, too. Thank you for all that you did, Irene. You quite probably saved my life. Where did you learn-?"

"Three older brothers."

"Ah, I suspected as much. Good night."

And that's where most people's stories would end, but not mine. Mr. Waverly, that was Mr. Solo's boss, came to see me and what he proposed was pretty crazy, but I've always sort of liked crazy. Now I'm one of a handful of female Section Three agents. I love being able to watch out for people and keep them safe. There's not as much danger as there is with Napoleon and Illya, but I'm okay with that.

Best of all, there are still assignments where I get to don my outfit and wander among the tables offering to sell folks cigar, cigarettes, gum or a flower for their woman and all the while I'm listening for opportunity to speak up again.


End file.
